


Graduation Day

by Missy



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: 1970s, Blow Jobs, California, Cooking, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Glam Rock, Meeting the kids, Original Child Characters, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Canon, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Step-parents, Switching Positions, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24622486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: A month after Squiggy's wedding, Lenny flies to Los Angeles to spend time with Laverne and her kids.  Disasters and desire ensue.A Sequel to Amythis' "My Old School."
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio/Lenny Kosnowski
Comments: 106
Kudos: 8
Collections: Lenny is a Rockstar 'Verse





	1. Circling The Drain (LAX Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amythis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/gifts).



_Could The Lone Wolf Have Found His Lady?_

_Hold on to your fluttering hearts, girls – one more dreamboat might be off the market._

_Everyone’s favorite top ten rocker, Lenny Kosnowski, has been seen in the regular company of a certain lady lately – and this playboy might finally be playing for keeps. The apple of his eye is Laverne Levy, thirty-eight, a divorcee with three kids. I know, right? I could just **gag** on the boring!. But our sources say we shouldn’t count Laverne out – she’s a hot little number and she and Lenny have a long, long history together. They grew up together, went to school together, lived in the same building together for five years – then moved all the way across the country together and were neighbors for four more. Our source says they used to date casually a lot when they worked for the same brewery, but it ‘wasn’t anything serious’ on Laverne’s side of things, while Lenny took it 'very seriously', even - gulp! - proposing to her three times. Maybe we’ve finally figured out who Lenny’s mysterious muse is?_

_Lenny’s been a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em type before Laverne, squiring around girls as different as Janice Dickinson and Karen Graham on the dance floors at Studio 54. Apparently those gals don’t have as much in common with Lenny as Laverne does – both of them have a fondness for monster movies, sports and chocolate ice cream._

_Good luck, Laverne and Lenny – and if she breaks your heart again, Len, you always have our shoulders to cry on._

_\- News Item, Tiger Beat, January 1977_

**************************

Lenny Kosnowski took a very deep breath as his plane finally taxied into LAX. He tried to remember the last time he’d been in town and realized it was two years ago – the last tour. He’d played an eight thousand seat theater and sold it out. That was before he’d become a medium-sized arena act. He could probably sell twenty thousand seats easily now – or so his agent had told him.

But his agent was Squiggy, so Lenny wasn’t entirely sure if that was the truth.

To be honest, Lenny wasn’t sure about most things in his life. He’d been on a pretty steady rinse-and-repeat cycle of making music over the past seven years, with occasional side-trips that involved dating models and actresses. His New York penthouse suite was a place to rest his guitar and store his notebooks; Lenny had gotten used to living for weekends with other people, so his whole life fit into a couple of suitcases and a duffel bag. He’d liked being fairly famous and having pretty women throw their underwear at him. Onstage. Mostly.

It was Laverne who’d hit the pause button on life for him, but then again she’d always been able to do that without blinking

To be fair, Leny had all but been begging her to do it for him. It wasn’t as if he’d stopped broadcasting signals toward her – begging her to pay attention with his music while sending postcards back to California and trying not to intervene in her marriage to Lee. Signals that understandably went unheard. He knew it was a greedy and selfish and dirty thing to do, but she inspired all of his most melodramatic emotions, and so he’d used her for grist for years, plumbing all of the good and bad times for top ten hits. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried with other women, or that Laverne hadn’t been happy for a lot of years with Lee; from what Laverne told him, no one was really to blame for her divorce from Lee beyond their growing apart and him being really wrapped up in his work.

He hadn’t expected his wishes to pay off after Laverne’s youngest kid had puked on Rosie Greenbaum’s new shoes at their high school reunion.

He still owed Rose for that one – and the life-transforming kisses Laverne had given him later. He’d have his PA pick her up a couple of pairs before he got back to New York. Little suede ones. Maybe he’d ask Laverne for fashion advice. Really nicely.

As he headed down the gangway, Lenny’s anxiety began to spike. Why, he had no idea. The wedding had gone pretty well. It felt good being with Laverne – just as natural and right as it had sitting beside her buttering popcorn during a movie non-date fifteen plus years ago. No matter how much time they spent apart it was easy to rest beside her and just feel. Her kids had been pretty good that day too – none of them had thrown up that time, and he’d danced with Tracy and with Josie, the latter of whom had tried to convince him to propose to her mother. Someday he’d explain to the two of them that he’d tried that one many, many times before and he wasn’t going down that road again until he was sure she wanted it too.

And he had been on his best behavior – trying not to jump the gun, like he always did, throw himself in a needy heap at her feet. So he hadn’t pushed things beyond a couple of deep kisses on the dance floor, a few satiny phone calls from the road. He’d not gone home with Laverne that night, though he really, really wanted to and Squiggy had gone so far as to aim the garter straight at his head in the hope that it’d add an extra dash of catnip into the intrigue between them. It was too soon, and her kids were still underfoot. Apparently that wasn’t supposed to be a problem this weekend, because Lee – a secular saint, as far as Lenny was concerned at this point – was going to let the girls and Frankie spend most of the week with him, culminating in a big family trip to DisneyLand. He didn’t anticipate any major problems but still, he felt nervous from the anticipation of it all.

The old him would’ve launched some sort of complaint about how her kids were totally cockblocking him, but he wasn’t the old him. 

He took a minute and stopped, sucking in another deep breath. He was a grown man. A grown man who had learned to handle his emotions thanks to the tireless work of Doctor Gentry. He could read books with words slightly bigger than ‘dog’ and ‘cat’ now. He could do basic math and kind of almost understood art. He had a bottle of Valium in his pocket and his guitar strapped to his back. He’d be able to spend a whole week alone with the woman he’d been in love with since he was six years old, a weekend that might just involve sex.

God. He really, really wanted a cigarette.

That was Lenny’s last sane thought as he crossed the boarding gate and a teenager barreled over the security railing at him and tackled him onto his ass, screaming all the while.


	2. Sunny California Morning (The I-Know-Better-Than-You-Remix)

_LONE WOLF IN LOVE_

_SPOTTED: ‘All I Want’ singer Lenny Kosnowski, 39, emerging from the boarding gate at LAX. Lenny was seen in the company of Laverne Levy, 39, his longtime friend and alleged current girlfriend. Laverne did not have much to say to our on-the-spot reporter, but she and Lenny seemed very happy to be together._

_\- LOS ANGELES TIMES SOCIETY PAGE, OCTOBER 1, 1976_

Laverne Levy – probably soon to be DeFazio again, no matter how much that may disturb Tracy – bit back a scream of frustration as she hung up the airport pay phone. 

Lee couldn’t take care of the kids for the weekend. Part of her wanted to strangle him, but part of her couldn’t fault him for this one – and kind of feared that strangling him might result in him bursting a stitch. After all, he was a caring, kind, generous co-parent – and probably hadn’t intentionally caused his appendix to burst, forcing him into emergency surgery that would leave him laid up in the hospital until next Saturday. He was fine, and apparently on great pain meds, but a tiny selfish part of Laverne was in her own kind of pain.

She took a very, very deep breath and wished she hadn’t decided to quit smoking. But she was an adult. A grown woman. She could handle the next week – all alone with Lenny and her kids in a little house in Toluca Lake – with grace and maturity.

So she screamed very quietly before leaving the phone booth. Then she pulled a hand mirror out of her purse and double-checked her make-up and hair. Both were holding up pretty well from the job interview she’d been on that morning. 

Okay. She could do this, she told herself one more time. Then a commotion drew her eyes from the mirror to a cacophony coming from the boarding gate.

She walked toward the congregating crowd only to hear the high treble of a teenager over the shouts of the adults around her. Laverne pushed her way through the circle of people to see Lenny sitting in the middle of them, a plain, mousy-looking teenager holding his hand. “Oh my god, it’s really you! It’s you and you have muscles and hair and arms and…”

“All of my stuff’s in place, yep,” Lenny said. He smiled. “What’s your name, darlin’?” 

“Mary,” she said, flushing to the roots of her hair. 

“Would you like an autograph, Mary?”

She let out a muffled shriek and reached into her purse, pulling out an 8-track of Kosmik Kosnowski. Lenny had a pen on him, and it took him seconds to ink the girls’ track before trying to leverage himself up on his right elbow. He caught sight of Laverne through the crowd, but she waited on the edge until he was done signing and taking Polaroid pictures. He did as much as he could with them until they begin to teem around him, overwhelming him. Then three burly members of airport security seemed to appear out of nowhere to part the circle, and he was guided out – walking toward her, smiling in the crowd.

A reporter jumped between their bodies. “Laverne!” he yelled, and she was startled to hear her name on the man’s lips. “is it true that you and Lenny have a passion palace in Hollywood that you share with Liz and Dick?!”

“Whatt’re you talking about?” she asked, then blinked as a flashbulb went off in her face.

“Hey, leave her alone!” she heard. Lenny couldn’t free himself from his adoring audience, much less save her – but then again he knew she could take care of herself. 

All at once, the reporter was being carried away by a very large man with a tattoo of a snake on his forehead. “We told you about bugging the celebrities,” said the burly man, his security badge flashing. Relief filled Laverne for just a moment. 

“Oh my GOD is that his girlfriend?” Asked a teenager behind her with a huge Olivia Newton John perm, snapping her gum. “She looks so…old.”

She whirled around to face the girl. “I’m three months younger than him!”

“You don’t look it, lady!” 

“Wanna make something of it?” Laverne snapped, marching toward her. Suddenly, a strong set of arms embraced her from behind.

“Hah,” Lenny laughed. “We’re just gonna go now. Have a good day, kids.”

Laverne didn’t speak a word to him until they cleared the front door of the airport.

“Hi,” he said, but didn’t kiss her. Instead he took both of her hands in his, and squeezed them.

Laverne squeezed back. “Hey,” she said. “Ready to go?”

“Sure,” he said. “I just brought a carry-on and the guitar. We’re okay to jet.”

She nodded. Behind them there were mumbles of strangers, a swirl of noise. Laverne couldn’t hear them. She walked hand-in-hand with Lenny back to her car, enraptured.

She unlocked the trunk for him and popped open the doors so the interior could cool off; though it was early fall in California, it was still warm enough to overheat a person. Lenny stuffed his duffle bag and guitar in the back of the car, and then came to sit beside her. He seemed nervous as she turned the key, and she wondered if he was remembering how poor of a driver she once was.

Buckling in, he sat back and sighed, then pulled his long, blond hair out of the elastic holding it back. His curls spilled all around his face, making his skin look china pale, his eyes bluer. He peeked back at her through the waves as she pulled out of the lot and started driving home.

“Who’s watching the kids?” Lenny asked suddenly, relaxing back into the seat. 

“Edna, til I get home,” she said. 

“Edna? Mrs. B’s back in touch with you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Ever since she broke up with that matador and I had Frankie. She’s been teaching tap at the local senior center most days. She was so sorry I slipped out of her life after she split up with Pop.”

“Ohh,” Lenny remarked. 

“So you got what you need for the trip?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Only Squig knows I’m with you. And um. Everyone at the airport, I guess.”

Laverne nodded thoughtfully. The radio piped in background music at a low volume – something that sounded like ELO, but Laverne couldn't discern it. They headed down the highway, until they turned off a ramp and down a street. Before she knew it, Laverne was pulling into her own driveway.

She let out a sigh as she pulled the keys from the ignition. “Len?” she said. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What’s wrong?” He turned toward her, fear in his eyes. 

“Lee’s appendix went bust,” she said. “He’s in the hospital for the next couple of days. He’s gonna be okay, but he can’t watch the kids for us.”

Immediately, he was frantic. “Do you need to go see him?” He asked. “I’ll watch the kids if you do.”

“Nah,” she said. “He’s out of it on meds. I’ll see him sometime tomorrow or the next day, when he’s doing better and we can really talk.”

“Okay,” Lenny breathed. Then he gave her a crooked smile. “Guess it could be worse.”

She popped the back door for him and made her way to the house. She barely had the front door opened when Edna appeared, still chic in her 70’s, and holding out Frankie.

“This one needs to be put down for his nap, but they’re all clean and happy,” Edna said. She peeked over Laverne’s shoulder at Lenny. “THAT’S Lenny?”

“Yep,” Laverne said, in a hopefully-nonchalant tone.

“He’s gotten so…long-haired.” Edna grinned and wiggled an eyebrow at her ex-stepdaughter.

“And other stuff,” Laverne said happily. 

“Well,” Edna said. “As long as he’s good to you.”

He came up behind Laverne with his guitar and bag. “Hey, Mrs. B,” Lenny said, his smile awkward. “You’re still Mrs. B, right?”

“Yep. Are you still Lenny?”

He smiled and tugged at the end of one of his blond curls. “Yeah. Same guy, different package.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving Edna brief hug as she left the doorway. Laverne heard Edna thanking Lenny for something, but she was too busy feeling the impact of Tracy against her body. The little girl threw herself at Laverne’s knees, heedless of her lighter grip on Frankie.

“Is daddy okay?” she asked, sniffling. 

“Daddy’s fine, honey,” she said. “He just needed to have a little operation is all. He'll be out of the hospital in a week.”

Her sniffles turned to angry glares when Lenny appeared behind her. Lenny gave the girl an awkward smile and wave, but she turned away.

“Where’s your sister?” Laverne asked.

“Upstairs,” said Tracy, who turned from the adults and began to stomp upward as well.

“How was – “ Laverne began to ask.

“Fine,” Tracy said. A few minutes later a door slammed. Laverne winced as Frankie whined, and she hoped against hope that this wasn’t a preview of Tracy’s teenage years.

“Welcome home, Laverne,” Lenny said, then headed into the house with his gear.


	3. Domestic Bliss (The Crunchy Lasagna Dub)

_**THE LOVE DEN THAT KEEPS LENNY KOSNOWSKI PACKED IN:** _

_Could this be a love nest fit for a Lone Wolf?_

_Pop singer Lenny Kosnowski has been seen in the Toluca Lake area with an unknown blonde woman. Our sources say he might be shopping for a bachelor pad in the area to get away from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles._

_Kosnowski, 39, has been seen on the arms of such beauties as Faye Dunaway over the past few years. “Lenny never had much luck with the ladies when he was living in Milwaukee (his hometown),” our source said. “But since he finally made it big he’s been dipping his fingers in all kinds of honeypots…hey, can you print that?”_

_Our sources say that Lenny may also time share a 5 million dollar Swiss bungalow with Dick Burton and Liz Taylor, though Taylor’s spokeswoman laughed when contacted for comment for this article._

_Kosnowski’s agent and spokesman, Andrew Squiggman, replied for requests for comment with an ‘up yours’ and a dial tone._

_The “Debutante” singer has a new album coming out this summer._

_- **The National Enquirer, October 1st, 1976**_

***

Lenny did what he always did when strife arrived upon his doorstep – made himself as small and unobtrusive as possible, so the anger in the air couldn’t be turned upon him.

Sitting on Laverne’s couch and taking in the scenery while she stomped around upstairs trying to get her daughters to talk to her and put down Frankie for his nap, Lenny thought to himself that she’d done all right for herself. The home was in an upper middle class neighborhood, and was a medium-sized split-level ranch with a lot of dark wooden paneling and masonry work – very 70’s modern. The big orange couch at the center of the living room was firm enough to cradle his back but soft enough for him to sink comfortably into its soft cushions. He glanced at the pillow beside him and noted that the want ads had been spread across it. Lenny reached over and flicked the TV on, and he cranked the volume downward as an announcer pierced the air with shrill promises and bland enticements.

Laverne came down a few minutes later, having changed into a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. He flashed back to Milwaukee, to bursting into her apartment every day and seeing her look just like that, only a little bit younger. Then again, he thought, tugging on one of his white-blond locks, who among them had the luxury of staying the same forever?

“Sorry about that,” she said. “Tracy’s worried about her Pop and it’s making her a sourpuss.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he said. “No better reason to be sour than that, right? Uh…want me to fold the paper up?”

“Oh,” she said, wincing at her lax housekeeping skills. She pulled the pages up and folded them down, setting it all aside on the coffee table. “Not yet. I’ve still gotta finish reading it.”

“You’re looking for a job?” Lenny asked. “Isn’t Lee taking care of you?”

“Of course,” she said. “But I still wanna get one, or maybe go back to school.” She shrugged. “I never really wanted to be a housewife, y’know? I love the kids a ton, and I’m not that bad at taking care of the place – but the older they get, the less I’ve got to do around here. It’s been years since I’ve had to figure out what I want for myself, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Lenny remarked. Did she want him to be part of the new life she was building? He hoped she did. “If you need any help, you know you can always…”

“Yeah, I know,” she smiled, reached over and squeezed his hand. Oh well, he’d offered – and it was Laverne, he didn’t expect her to accept anything even vaguely resembling charity. “Anyway!” she said brightly. “Wanna help me get some lasagna in the oven?”

“Sure,” he said. Lenny followed Laverne quietly into the kitchen, which was small and modest, a narrow affair decorated with brown and orange flowers on the off white colored cabinets. 

He let her take the lead – let her turn the oven on, then watched her unload the refrigerator, and then place tomatoes, peppers, onions, garlic, and mushrooms on the counter – while tying his hair back and out of his face. He rinsed his hands and the peppers and tomatoes first (earning an impressed, approving raise of the eyebrow from her) and then got to work chopping the vegetables into tiny pieces. 

Laverne filled a big stockpot of water and put it on the stove, cranking up the heat. She dotted a frying pan with olive oil, and then heated it for a few minutes. 

“Len, can you give me the garlic and onions?”

“Coming right up,” he said. When he arrived with a small mound of pale white onion pieces and tiny off-white garlic chunks heaped into the center of a paper plate, his chest brushed her back and her gasp wedded with his soft moan. 

God, was he that hard up? He gave her an awkward smile and poured both flavor of the vegetables into the pan, listening to it hiss, and smelling the incredible scent of cooking onions and garlic. They brushed again as he moved away, and Lenny shivered. Yeah, he supposed he was. It had been six months since he’d seen another woman, and besides that, it was Laverne. Laverne his dream girl, who had grown up to become his dream woman.

“Thanks,” she said, her returned smile just as unmannered as she rubbed the back of her neck, and then got to work stirring away at the onions and garlic with a big wooden spoon.

Lenny returned to the counter beside the kitchen sink, heard the sizzle and smelled the delicious odor of cooking meat as she browned a combination of ground beef and crumbled sweet sausage on the range behind him, mixing it up with the onion and garlic already in the pan and seasoning it with delicious-smelling herbs. Back to back they worked, and a sense of cozy intimacy filled Lenny’s soul – he’d never had this before, not even with the girls he’d tried to live with. By the time he was done mincing and cutting the other vegetables, she had drained the now-cooked beef and onion and garlic mixture into a Pyrex bowl. He helped her cook up the rest of the vegetables and then got to work dropping lasagna noodles into the boiling pot of water. She set the oven timer for four minutes, and then started preparing the sauce.

“Take these,” she said, producing a small container of ricotta cheese as she dipped into the fridge for some more fresh herbs and a large hunk of mozzarella cheese. Then she handed him two eggs and a large bunch of the parsley. 

He understood the principle well enough from watching her make the dish a million times before back in Milwaukee and Burbank – Lenny mashed the ricotta and the eggs together with a tablespoon each of parsley and oregano in the belly of one of Laverne’s smaller Pyrex bowls. 

By the time Lenny turned around with the finished mixture, Laverne had a pot of tomato sauce on the bubble. Her signature sauce was just canned tomatoes mixed up with jarred spaghetti sauce and lots of basil, oregano, parsley, salt, pepper and the tiniest hint of thyme – a fact that would likely make her grandma weep, but it wasn’t as if Laverne had time to baby a pot of tomatoes into whirled, bright-flavored bliss. She grated moz and shot a look over her shoulder at him. Again, desire worked through his flesh like a healing potion.

The oven timer rang, and she showed him where she kept her big colanders. He held it still and winced at the needle-poke pain of the oversplash as she tipped the big pot into the strainer. She rinsed the noodles, and then they got to work building the lasagna proper in one of her large casserole dishes, layering everything together, finishing with a big handful of shredded mozzarella. 

Laverne pushed the dish into the oven and set the timer. “You don’t need me to help you make a salad, do you?” she teased.

“Nah, I think I know the basics,” Lenny said. It was easy enough to chop, wash and shred the lettuce, carrots, cucumbers and other vegetables she brought to him, and then toss it with a combination of olive oil, vinegar, and a packet of Wishbone dressing. He topped it with some plastic wrap and left it to chill in the fridge. They had just enough time to heat up a loaf of Italian bread before the oven timer dinged for the lasagna. 

“Do you want me to call…?” he started to say.

“KIDS! DINNER’S READY!” Laverne shouted toward the ceiling.

Well. That answered his question. 

*** 

The meal itself passed calmly by. Lenny gulped down the dinner, enjoying every bite, while listening to Josie tell a protracted story about her day in kindergarten from her position beside him. Tracy, meanwhile, sat sullenly across from him, taking small bites and sending him hate-filled glares. He winced when they locked eyes. She’d been so on-board about his relationship with Laverne at the reunion and wedding! He had no idea what had changed her mind. 

Laverne, meanwhile, alternated between smiling indulgently at Josie’s stories, feeding herself, and spooning some ungodly looking orange goop into a squirming Frankie’s mouth. 

Lenny finished first, and reached for seconds. But before he started eating he realized it would be polite to offer up his help to Laverne. “Hey, you want me to take over?” he asked.

“Nah, we’re almost done,” Laverne said. She was nearly to the bottom of the second jar of orange mashed up stuff and her own dinner was halfway gone. 

“That’s not _your_ job,” Tracy said suddenly.

“Tracy Louise Levy!” Laverne said, using her most full-throated mom voice as she screwed the top back onto the first jar of baby food. 

“Daddy does that,” she said firmly, making Lenny gulp at her tone. “It’s _his_ job to feed Frankie supper.”

“Only on the weekends,” Laverne muttered under her breath, and Lenny detected a note of bitterness in her voice. “Trace, you can’t expect your dad to feed Frankie when he’s all the way over in the hospital, can you?”

Tracy’s bottom lip wobbled, threatening to turn into a full-on boo boo face. Laverne threw herself into the breach to sop her daughter’s sorrow.

“If everyone finishes their lasagna in time,” she said, putting on a bright and peppy tone that would’ve made June Cleaver squirt, “they can have ice cream while they watch Penny and Cindy tonight.”

“Oh boy!” Lenny blurted out, to his total embarrassment. He shoveled down his seconds and tried to remember that he was a sophisticated adult. Josie joined him. Even Tracy scraped her plate with the promise of ice cream and Penny and Cindy lying before them. 

Once Laverne had finished, she told the girls, “you go into the living room and tune the set, Lenny and me’ll clean the table and get your ice cream.”

“Yay!” Josie yelled. She ran pell-mell for the living room, leaving Tracy to take her baby brother and the grownups to clean the dishes.

“I’m sorry about Tracy,” said Laverne, once the kids were safely out of earshot. “I dunno what’s gotten into her.”

“I think she might miss her dad,” Lenny offered up.

“Yeah, but that’s no reason for her to be nasty to you,” Laverne said. She piled the plates up and Lenny gathered the casserole dish. 

“You know what it’s like,” Lenny said. “I mean, when your Pop was dating around before Edna, and my dad…” His dad couldn’t even get married again thanks to his mother’s desertion, not that his emotionally fragile son or his mannered, anxious daughter would have let him. 

“I remember,” Laverne said. She didn’t meet his eyes as she started scraping silverware against Chinette. 

He loaded the dishwasher while she put away leftovers. They were in the middle of scooping chocolate ice cream into shallow dishes when her phone rang.

“Can you get that, Len?” the scoop had adhered itself to a particularly stubborn chunk of at the bottom of the container.

“You sure?” he asked, finding the yellow rotary phone at the other end of the room. “I dunno what kinda loser would be calling me at your house at eight thirty at night.” Then again, who would be calling Laverne? Her Pop had retired to Florida two years before, and Shirley had a kid and life of her own and probably had to set aside time to talk to her best friend these days.

“Hello,” Squiggy said, before Lenny could put the mouthpiece against his lips.

“Hi,” Lenny said. “Whattya want?” He mouthed _Squig_ to Laverne’s questioning look, then she mimed a big wave hello before picking up the dishes of ice cream and carrying them out to her daughters with plastic spoons.

“Nothing. Just wanted to know if you managed to get anything off of Laverne yet,” Squiggy said.

Lenny held the receiver closer to his mouth. “Come on, Squig. I’ve been here five hours…”

“And since when has that ever put the brakes on the ol’ Kosnowski express?” asked Squiggy. “Why, last time you was alone with a broad you had her on her knees in the back room at Studio 54 like that!” He snapped his fingers.

“Squig, that was Raquel Welch, and she was helping me because I got my fringe caught in my zipper.” An embarrassing incident. Raquel had chuckled, but in a kind way.

“It still counts if she breathes on your crouch,” said Squiggy. “It’s called the law of avenges.”

“Right,” Lenny said. “Don’t you gotta go change Moth’s diaper?”

“Nah, she’s right here, I just burped her.” The baby was only a month old, but Squiggy and his kid were inseparable, which was probably a relief for Francine, who spoke frequently throughout her pregnancy of going back to work as a stenographer, even though Squiggy could ‘bring home their sauerbraten’. “And then you farted like a Squiggman, didn’t you, huh?” Lenny heard soft babyish noises and had to smile. Marriage to Francine had improved Squiggy’s life, if not his personality, hygiene or sense of morality.

“Look, I gotta go hang out with Laverne and the kids. We’re gonna watch Penny and Cindy together…”

“Oh yeah?” Squiggy said. “Uh…you ever watched that show before?”

“No, why?”

“Noooo reason,” Squiggy said.

“I hate it when you talk like that,” Lenny whined. The old him, the twenty-year-old greaser who failed out of high school and barely made it through trade school and signed every important document with an L, threatened to reemerge.

“I ain’t talking like nothing! I sound like this all the time!”

“You do not!”

“Do too!”

“You better tell me what’s going on, or I’m gonna cancel the Bonne Belle endorsement.” Lenny wasn’t wild about selling lipgloss to teenagers in the first place, let alone agreeing to wear the stuff onstage for the next six years.

“Just…go sit with Laverne and her kids. I’ll talk to you at the end of the week, unless the pepperonis start climbing all over my lawn.” 

“Wait, whatt're the paparazzi…?” Before Lenny could get the question out, Squiggy hung up on him. He cursed at the receiver, then finished dishing up ice cream for himself and Laverne and got the carton back into the freezer, dumping the scoop into the sink. 

When he entered the living room, Laverne had Frankie on her knee, and Tracy and Josie were on the floor, the former building a castle out of LEGOS at the far right corner of the couch, the latter lying on her stomach on the rug, spooning ice cream into her mouth.

“It just started,” Laverne whispered, taking the dishes of ice cream from him and handing over Frankie, then pressing a quick kiss to Lenny’s cheek. The little boy settled comfortably upon Lenny’s lap and began to drowse, sucking his thumb. A wave of calm gratitude swept over Lenny, and not just from the sweetness of Laverne’s lips.

It was a sense of comfort that ebbed away as the episode began to spool out, replaced by an eerie sense of déjà vu. If he hadn’t been tipped off by the fact that tonight’s episode was about Penny being proposed to by her upstairs neighbor because she might be ‘in trouble’ thanks to a wild night at the boss’ son’s birthday party, the presence of a tall, goofy blond character named Michael with sharp features and slate blue eyes who always entered the room with a chipper “hiya!” would have done it.

“Uh, Laverne,” he said nervously, but then Lenny noticed how white her knuckles had become, her grip actually shaking the ice cream dish, and stayed quiet.

The kids stayed oblivious, arguing between themselves about the merits of the plot, whether or not Michael and Penny really belonged together, and what was really making Penny throw up every morning if she wasn’t having a baby.

Even when the end credits rolled up, crediting Jerry Callihan as the creator and executive producer of the show.


	4. Skinny Dipping (Interrupting Kid Radio Edit)

**JERRY CALLIHAN AND THE BATTLE FOR THE SOUL OF _PENNY AND CINDY_**

_August 13th, 1976_ \- You’ve heard the backstage rumblings about discontent. You’ve heard their former writing staff would rather ‘die’ than work on the show again. You’ve even heard whispers that the four principals tried to run over their executive producer with a car during a pay dispute. Jerry Callihan – creator of the smash hit _Penny and Cindy_ \- insists that these rumors are both false and “meretricious.”

“Everyone in my cast loves each other, and I love them,” Callihan said during a teleconference held during a press junket to promote the second season of the hit sitcom, set to bow on September 14th at 8:30 PM on ABC. 

Callihan – who based the main character’s silly antics on “many” people he observed while growing up around the Shotz Beer bottling plant in Milwaukee, Wisconsin - insists that his actors will be straightening up and flying right this year, “if only to keep my insurance premiums down.” 

As to whether or not Callihan’s representation of women are accurate and fair to the good state of Michigan, he says “I’ve known a lot of girls in my time and trust me – there’s no one on the planet like Penny and Cindy.”

_Associated Press, 1976_

** 

“I’m gonna kill him!” Laverne ranted as she paced the deck surrounding her modest backyard pool. Lenny was smart enough not to get in her way, sitting on a deck chair and puffing away at his second Camel of the evening. 

“Laverne, you can’t kill a producer,” he said, his voice just as even and calm as it had been back in Milwaukee when he’d coaxed her into seeing her mother’s grave for the first time. She saw him stub out the cigarette on the concrete next to his feet before dumping the butt into a clear, oval shaped green glass ashtray stationed on his knee, and then lighting up his third cigarette of the evening. He inhaled, then exhaled a puff of creamy grey that looked iridescent in the low lights of her backyard. “It’s bad luck.”

Suddenly, she wanted a slice of his calmness, wanted to know what it was like to feel that reasonable. “Gimmie that!” she blurted out, and grabbed the cigarette from Lenny’s fingertips. He stared at her in alarm as she sucked in a lungful of calming nicotine – only to sputter and gag the same way she had when she’d first tried to smoke as a teenager. “Bad…idea,” she blurted out, as he reached over and smacked her on the back until she stopped gagging. Once she could get in a breath, she handed the cigarette back to Lenny. Definitely a bad idea. And one not worth falling off the wagon for.

“Just relax, okay?” Lenny asked, maneuvering her into the chair in front of him, and then massaging her shoulders. “Tomorrow, we’ll have a nice, big breakfast, and we’ll take your kids to DisneyLand, and when we come home, I’ll call Squig and have him hire you an attorney. Sound good?”

Laverne shook her head, melting a little under his gentle but firm fingertips. “I dunno if we could win,” she admitted. “He did change just enough of the story to make it seem original.”

“We got proof that you knew each other,” Lenny pointed out. “And come on – he could’ve at least changed the color of my jacket.”

“Do you even still have that?” she could still remember the night she’d spent up basting one of her Ls in place on his left shoulder. Ever since then she’d always felt a weird attachment to that jacket, had always felt a sense of warm familiarity when Lenny showed up wearing it.

“I’ve still got it,” he said. “It’s just in storage.” Huh. She hadn’t known. “And plenty of pictures on top of that.”

Laverne leaned back into Lenny’s solid, newly muscular chest. “I don’t believe I washed that guy’s underwear,” she grumbled.

“Gotta give him credit for one thing,” Lenny said. “At least all that extra laundry gave me some time alone with you in basement.” 

She snorted turned in his arms. “Yeah, and you’d always try to make out with me.”

“That’s not fair, Laverne.” He pecked her bottom lip. “You always knew how to make me stop.”

 _Lenny, no._ She’d used that phrase often around him. 

He leaned a little closer, played with her hair –recently dyed golden-red. “Do you want me to stop now?” he asked softly. 

She shook her head. They kissed then, kisses that ratcheted upward in intensity, until her hands were tangled in his long blond curls and his hands had splayed out against her back. She stroked his cheek, teased the side of his neck, but pulled away and stood.

She shook her head. Then she got up and faced him, pulling her sweatshirt up over the top of her head.

“Laverne?” he squeaked out. When she surfaced again, his eyes were big blue saucers.

“Do you know how to swim, Len?” she asked, as she started unzipping her jeans.

He nodded jerkily. “Yeah. I learned when we moved to California together. Squig said I ought to stop being afraid of the water, in case we met any mermaids who wanted us to come live with them in their ‘Undersea Pleasure Palace’.” She nodded at his air quotes. Of course. “So one day we went down to the beach and then he just threw me in.” He tilted his head to the side. “I learned fast.”

“Oh, Len.” She shucked her jeans down her thighs and then bent to get her sneakers off. Her socks and jeans and sneakers managed to come off in one gesture that almost sent her tumbling onto her keister. 

When she looked up, Lenny was staring at her, his eyes ravenous and gigantic. “Come here,” he groaned.

She shook her head, kicked her clothing away from the lip of the pool, and then dove in.

Laverne knew the inside of thing like the back of her hand. It had been the last big splurge she and Lee had agreed to jointly as a married couple, in the hope that if they had a trendy pool like the rest of the neighborhood they could entertain their couple friends and feel more like a unified front in general. Unfortunately, it had just piled more bills on top of their heaving shoulders. They’d managed to pay it off, but had agreed to get divorced a few months later.

Laverne surfaced, shoving her straggly hair out of her face as she started to tread. She looked up to see a shirtless Lenny staring down at her, thumbing open the top button on his jeans. 

She swallowed hard at the picture he made, his paper-white skin glowing in the moonlight and her backyard floodlights like he’d been dipped in pearly powder. He’d finally managed to do what he’d always said he wanted to do and his once-skinny body was now defined and lightly corded over with ropy muscles, his belly rippling and his biceps strong-looking. It wasn’t a big surprise to Laverne – she, along with every other mother in her cul de sac, had seen his _Cosmo_ centerfold, where he posed coyly with a come-hither look in his eyes and an over-sized teddy bear positioned over his most sensitive bits. She and Shirley had even gossiped about it during a long-distance phone call like a couple of giggly teenagers (“You always did want to know where he got his underwear, Shirl.” “Why did you have to remind me of that?”). But now he was live, and in the flesh, and the bulge in his jeans indicated he wanted her just as much as he had when they were desperate, horny twenty-somethings groping one another in the front seat of a swan boat. 

She finally did get to see his underwear as he stripped off his sneakers and socks and jeans. They were black, with a blue snakeskin stripe pattern, just ridiculous enough to remind her that it was Lenny she was doing this with. 

Then he belly-flopped into the pool a few inches away from her, causing her to sputter and laugh at the engulfing wave of warm water.

“Lenny!” she scolded, her eyes stinging, trying to find him in the warm pool beside her. She didn’t expect him to surface behind her, arms around her waist, growling out a surprise. 

She got him right in the belly with her elbow, and he grunted, falling back behind her. “Ow!”

“Sorry! Are you okay?” she turned toward him.

“Yeah, but I won’t turn you down if you wanna kiss it better,” he said. She rolled her eye, but pulled him down toward her lips. They made out in the warm water, and Laverne forgot how to paddle, how to breathe. At least once Lenny hoisted her up with one of his arms and at another point he dipped below the water, surprised when her fingertips skated through his body hair and arrowed toward his groin, nearly sinking under the weight of her touch.

Lenny reached over with one hand and unclasped the back of her bra – a single, smooth gesture that gave her a start. She squirmed out of her bra, her eyes locked onto his gaze. She watched him watch her as the scrap of lace and fabric floated away like a signal flag, their legs and arms treading back and toward one another. 

She had no idea what Lenny had been planning on saying when he finally saw her partially nude. She was self-conscious enough about the slight sag nursing three children and time had given her, not to mention the little pale stretchmarks grapevining over her flesh. But what came out was so perfectly him she couldn’t help but laugh. He bit his hand – that old master gesture of his. “God, your tits,” he blurted out, then dove under the water’s surface. The next thing she felt was his hand sprawling across her lower back and his tongue flicking against her left nipple. 

Laverne remembered to keep kicking as the little spikey thrills of pleasure raced from her nipples to between her thighs. His licks turned into long pulls, and he kept alternating between them, until his right hand came up and took hold of her left breast and began to greedily knead it. 

“Len,” she panted out. She reached under the water to tug on some of that long blond hair of his and he groaned around her flesh, making her whine between gritted teeth. She just needed him to…

Then the patio light – a motion-sensitive device that Lee had insisted upon when they installed the pool – flicked on. “Mom!” cried Josie from the sliding glass doorway. “I peed the bed!”

*** 

Laverne heaved out a sigh as she turned the washer on. Thankfully nothing had managed to leak through the rubber sheets they’d bought. She finished washing and cleaning it before putting it back on the bed, washing her hands, and getting new sheets on the bed.

Josie had already been rinsed and put in new pajamas, and seemed visibly embarrassed that she’d done what she’d done. She had mostly grown out of her nocturnal emission stage, but sometimes – if she dreamed too deeply – she’d pee the bed. Her pediatrician promised Laverne that she’d grow out of it, a vow that Laverne kept praying would come true.

“What happened this time, babe?” she asked, as she helped her scramble back between the sheets.

“I was in the ocean,” said Josie. “And it was really big and I was drinking and drinking and then I felt everything go boom…”

Laverne patted her head. “You feel all empty?” Her daughter shot her a thumbs up. “Okay. Sleep tight.” She kissed Josie’s forehead.

Laverne turned the night light down, and then checked in on Tracy (who was out like a light, sprawled on her stomach and fast asleep) and Frankie (also sawing wood, this time on his back). She let out a sigh when she reached her bedroom, but was alarmed to see Lenny wasn’t there. She had given him a whispered and harried explanation on her way inside of the house, but had presumed he’d understood her meaning when he’d quickly swam after her floating bra and brought it back.

“Len?” she whispered into the darkened hallway, but he wasn’t there or in the bedroom. A soft rattling sound from the kitchen made her relax. She took the extra time to dry her hair and strip off her clothes. Laverne had thought to change into something sexy, but she hadn’t had a chance to buy any post-divorce lingerie. Everything in her draws had been used to entice Lee, and she didn’t want to have to deal with the memories wearing them brought up for her.

Making due, Laverne donned a pair of black bikini panties and a clean, sweet smelling teeshirt before posing herself alluringly on the bed. She was more than in the mood to be seduced.

Hopefully Lenny was ready for everything she had to offer.


	5. Midnight Loving (The Third Base Chop and Screw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told y'all we'd get there!

_**SEXUAL SECRETS OF A LONE WOLF** _

_**YOU, TOO, CAN FUCK LIKE A ROCKSTAR.** _

_Every girl wants him, but only a few girls have had him. He’s Lenny Kosnowski, the hottest thing on the Cashbox Top 100, and he’s hungry for female companionship._

__

__

According to our sources, in bed Lenny’s as dreamy as he looks, with top marks given for foreplay. “I had to pull him off of my pussy by his hair,” one ex-starlet said. Hey, whatt’re you complaining about, honey?

_Speaking of honey, it seems he has one special sweet spot on his body. “There’s this spot on the bottom of his left foot that I found by mistake and when I touched it, he just went wild!” an anonymous former mate of the Lone Wolf told us. Hmm, sounds like you might need some fancy footwork to keep up with him!_

_PLAYGIRL MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1975_

*** 

Lenny had fled to the kitchen after getting out of the pool, grabbing his clothing and shoving it down the laundry chute in a blind panic while Laverne took care of Josie. Almost getting caught by his quasi-girlfriend’s daughter while he was sucking on her mother’s boobs was a new all-time high when it came to embarrassing sex bloopers, and he sort of wanted to crawl under the kitchen counter, but vowed to himself he wouldn’t collapse like a quivering souffle as he might have before. Instead, he made a couple of sandwiches and got a couple of beers. He still believed that his old experiences were correct – women definitely got hungrier after sex.

He crept upstairs carefully, and then searched for Laverne’s bedroom. After accidentally opening a bathroom door and peering into a walk-in closet, Lenny managed to pick the right one. But he didn’t approach the bed. Arranging his body in a come-hither posture that would have melted the panties off of any squealing fangirl, he glanced into the bedroom and almost dropped the plate.

Laverne was lounging on the bed, smiling at him with her wet hair, in a teeshirt and a pair of panties. No fancy, frilly lace or peekaboo slips as she’d worn in his old fantasies, but she looked amazing. His cock lurched toward the moon in his briefs and he flushed.

Then his beloved spoke. “Did you wanna eat first?” she asked, her nose wrinkled. 

“Uh no – we’re gonna have these after.” He said, kicking the door closed behind it and closing it securely with a bump of his behind.

“We just had dinner,” she pointed out.

“Yeah,” Lenny said, arranging everything on the bedside table and then kneeling before Laverne on the floor. “But I’m gonna fuck you so good you’re gonna need a sandwich to refuel afterwards.” 

She raised an eyebrow, got her arms around his long neck. “That a promise, Len?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. Then he kissed her quiet. 

They made out like hungry teenagers, desperate to know each other, to remember each other. His hands stroked, and then groped, at her flesh. When her frustrated pawing at his behind didn’t lead to his shorts dropping to the floor, Lenny gently reached down for the hem of her teeshirt. 

In the semi-darkness, lit only by a small bedside lamp, he read what was written there. “ _Italians Do It Better?_ ” He smirked. “Now is THAT a promise?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes and helped him pull the shirt up and over her head. “Come up here and find out for yourself.”

What could Lenny do but follow her orders? Resting the length of his form against hers, they began to make out more seriously, tongues tickling, fingertips exploring. He squeezed the breast nearest his hand gently, hand dancing between the thick tawny peaks of her breasts. Laverne growled at his teasing and bit his earlobe, scaring a laugh out of him.

“I was wondering if it’d be like wrestling a bear with you,” he remarked, looking up from the side of her cheek, where he’d been nuzzling while his hands kneaded and plucked and rolled and pinched the tits he’d been jerking off over for ages.

She prodded his side before reaching down and pulling off her panties. “Hey, I’ve only got hair where it counts.” She whipped her underwear off and tossed it over his head. Automatically, he glanced down at the dark blond-with-a-hint of ginger patch of fur between her legs. His cock jerked against the restraining material of his briefs again.

“I really like those places,” he remarked. But he tickled her under the arms, surprising her into a loud laughing fit, before tracing his way down her sides. With his lips, he worshipped the stretch marks lining both breasts before sucking, licking, nipping and kissing her nipples. He slid a hand down, caressing her just-a-little-rounder-than-it-was-pre-kids belly, before cupping a hand over her sex.

Laverne was not a giggler or a whisperer or a sigher in bed. She groaned as if he’d stomped on her as his thumb grazed her clit. 

“Shhh,” Lenny whispered. Looking up, he felt a rare, arrogant rush of pride – her swollen lips, the way she’d tossed back her head, her glistening, dark brown nipples sticking straight up, and the delicious-smelling, wet and hot center of her being. Lenny flicked his tongue into her navel, making Laverne laugh, while his fingers parted her and began to pet, now avoiding her clit deliberately, and just getting his fingertips wet so he could use them on her.

“You feel so good, Laverne,” he crooned against her stomach. His right hand found her breasts and barely teased across her nipples before his left up her labia. He entered her with his fingers then, gently, as she closed her eyes tight in ecstasy and her hips reached for the sky.

He examined her, tried to really pay attention and study her, as he built up the fire he’d kindled in her body. Laverne – lost as she was in the attention he was giving her – splayed out and began to rock her hips in rhythm to his fingers.

Lenny used both hands on her now – adding a second and then third finger and circling her clit with his thumb. Careful not to give it too much direct attention, he figured out how often he wanted him to stroke her and how deep she wanted his long and once or twice too much for a woman fingers. 

He lunged upward and licked her right nipple and sped the fingers of his left hand. His right thumb brushed her clitoral hood, careful not to touch the delicate organ within – not until she was much closer. 

Laverne was panting, groaning and moaning, trying to muffle the sounds of her excitement between gritted teeth. He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she chuckled, as if she couldn’t believe she was doing this with him. 

“Fuck,” she growled. “Please?”

Whatever she wanted. Two seconds later she was gushing around his fingers, gasping, pinning his hand. He refused to let up, planting kisses up and down her thighs, then licking with caution and curiosity between those delectable lips of hers. Laverne gasped and squirmed, maybe a little too sensitive after her first orgasm. But Lenny drowned himself in the taste of her, in the feeling of her clenching around his fingers as he brought her over the line another time. His lips fastened around her clit and she kneed him in the jaw. 

She yanked him up off of her by the hair, then kissed him like a madwoman, rolling him under her and across the bed. When they came up for air, Lenny cocked his head and gave her a grin. “So do I pass the audition?” he asked in a Liverpuddlian accent, making her groan.

She rolled him flat onto his back as an answer. Laverne reached down and pulled his shorts down, making Lenny groan in relief as his cock finally emerged into the air. She raised an impressed eyebrow and then started gently stroking him. Lenny melted; his hips jerked. Throbbing in her hand, she teased the tip of her thumb along the head of his cock before kissing his chest, pecking his nipples, tickling her fingertips down his ribcage. Lenny writhed. He held himself back – barely – from creaming all over this woman’s hand.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” she breathed in his ear. 

Lenny almost came there and then – at this point he was dripping down her wrist. “Yes?” he squeaked.

She grinned and slid down his body. “Please?” she teased him, and brushed his cock along her bottom lip. “Please, let me suck your cock?”

 _“Laverne!”_ He whined it out as if he were a virginal twenty year old truck driver again, trying his luck on the girl he’d always been wild for, ready to be shot down but hoping against hope that he’d get to taste her, touch her, hold her.

She licked him, slathered her tongue against him with long, even strokes, and Lenny absolutely felt like a gigantic lollipop, but he and his cock didn’t care. Her throat was as warm and sweet as he’d always dreamed it would be. Everything after that first taste, that first touch, forced him to desperately hold himself back. 

And Laverne was ready. She let him fuck her throat, but drove herself down and against him, sucked hard around the solid shaft, nose buried in the thick thatch of blond hair at his groin. She pinned his hips down and took control and drove Lenny up the wall. 

Her right hand found his balls and somehow knew how to handle them – just gently enough. He didn’t notice what she was doing with her left hand until she’d pressed her middle finger to the sole of his left foot.

It was as if she’d hypnotized him. He choked out her name and saw stars and pumped himself down her throat. He could dimly feel her contract around him as he shuddered and jerked – and wished that it was her pussy he was filling so thoroughly.

Oh well. They’d have plenty of time over the weekend to go what he would have called – back when he was twenty, back when he couldn’t talk girls into doing this with him - ‘all the way’ with her. 

When she surfaced, flicking a thumb against her bottom lip slyly, his look combined admiration with frustration. “You…sneaky,” he gasped out. 

She smirked and crawled up into his arms. “Sneaky like a fox,” she said.

“How did you figure out…?”

She flushed. “Um. I may have read that little article about you in _Playgirl_ …”

“Laverne!” he gaped at her.

She tried and failed to look innocent. “What? They told the truth about your foot.”

“I’m gonna strangle Squig when I see him later,” he muttered. "Next thing I'm gonna hear is that you saw my _Cosmo_ centerfold."

She hid her eyes from him. “Uh...Wait, Squig put that in the magazine?” 

Lenny flushed. “Yeah. All his idea, trust me.”

Silence passed as her fingers glided down his chest. “So do….” She began to ask.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lenny said. He held her there against his chest, let her breathe, let himself rest – let the wet spot dry. “Uh,” he asked, “Didn’t you want to…?” He had condoms somewhere in his guitar case, though he was pretty sure Laverne had to be on the pill judging from her impulsive forwardness.

“We can do it later,” she said. “’S’only one day.”

“Mmmm,” he remarked, and burrowed closer to her.

Lenny tried to be aware of the time and of the fact that he was sleeping in Laverne’s room, that he shouldn’t be there in the morning when the kids got up. Instead he rolled closer to her and lowered the lamp. Within moments they were both asleep.


	6. Hogs in the Kitchen (Promo Single Version)

**How DOES He Keep That Hair So Blond?  
Lenny Kosnowski’s Hairdresser Tells All!**

_Ever wanted to know what everyone’s favorite teased-blond tresses goes through to get as shiny and manageable as it looks? Well, Count of Rock Lenny Kosnowski’s hairdresser is no further away than your supermarket’s top shelf. According to a source, it’s not Jose Eber but Miss Clairol that keeps his roots platinum blond. Big celebrities: they really ARE just like us._

**The Globe, August 15, 1976**

***

Laverne had a feeling it was going to be a bad day when she woke up to a mouthful of green-tinged blond hair. 

“Len,” she stage-whispered, and poked his elbow. Naked and moaning, he fell backwards and away from her. Then his blue eye rolled open and he grinned at her. Until he fluffed out his hair, and took notice of his now not-so-bleached blond hair.

“Oh no! The chlorine!” he squeaked out. Tugging at his now pale-green locks, Lenny caught sight of himself in Laverne’ pier glass and groaned. “The bleach can do that. Oh nooo I have to be on American Bandstand in two weeks I’m FUCKED!”

 _Lie still and give me a chance, Len,_ she thought to herself, but she didn’t say it. “At least you don’t gotta be anywhere for awhile,” she said.

He let out a self-depreciating snort. “Sure. You don’t mind taking the Swamp Monster to Disneyland, do ya?”

She shook her head. “You’ll match the bushes just fine.”

“I’m serious, Laverne. We’re supposed to go to Disneyland after your kids get back from school. Tinkerbelle’s gonna think I’m a weirdo.”

She pecked his cheek. “You’re my weirdo.”

He paused and grinned at her as he sat back. “So whatt’re we gonna do?”

“Well, if you go get Frankie and check on him, I’ll get the girls up for school. We’ll send them off, I’ll find someone to watch Frankie, and then the two of us’ll have five hours of grown-up time. Then we shower, make lunch, pick Josie up from morning kindergarten class, wait for Tracy to get back from school, then we go to Disneyland. We get the kids in bed, and then we have all night to be together.”

Lenny watched her fondly. “Have I ever mentioned you’re my dream girl?”

She smirked. “I know I’m your dream girl, Len. I’ve seen your bedsheets.”

“Aww, that was just one time!” He snorted, and then kissed her. Springing from the bed, he paused. “I just realized I tossed my clothes down the laundry chute. My stuff’s still down in the den.”

“It’s OK,” Laverne said, grabbing fresh sweats from her bureau. “You can borrow mine. You probably still fit into my clothes.”

“Heaven willing,” Lenny snorted. He’d gained a little muscle mass since they’d last tried this, but he fit nicely into her jeans and an old Rolling Stones teeshirt. “Do I look good?”

“Dynamite,” Laverne said. He smirked at her. Well, he’d take her compliments – easily and gladly now, apparently. 

Laverne donned a track suit and some deodorant before she left the room. Lenny managed to find the nursery by the time she opened the door to Tracy’s room. Her daughter was sprawled out on her bed, snoring slightly.

“C’mon baby, get up,” she said, poking her daughter awake.

“Unh. I was dreaming,” Tracy complained.

“You can dream in class,” Laverne told her. “Go get dressed, and I’ll see if I can get some pancakes on the stove.” June Cleaver, again, would’ve come on the spot. 

As always, Josie was easier to get up. “Are we really gonna go to Disneyland?” she asked, hopping out of bed and as if she didn’t get to go there every week.

“If you’re good,” Laverne said, pretending to consider it. 

“I’m ALWAYS good. TRACY’S bad,” said Josie. Which wasn’t always strictly true, but when one is five it seemed an apt accusation. 

Laverne made sure both of the kids brushed their hair and dressed properly (the time that Josie went to school with clashing sneakers would not be repeated). As she walked past the nursery, she could hear Lenny singing James Taylors’ “Carolina in my Mind” to Frankie and smiled. She could picture him walking the floor with the baby – with their baby someday. _Ain’t it just like a friend of mine to hit me from behind_ indeed.

She got the girls behind the table and got to work on the pancakes. Lenny came down a few minutes later, Frankie in his arms, and he kissed the back of her neck, sighing. When Laverne turned around, Tracy was glaring at them both. _What’s the matter with you,_ she groused mentally. _You were trying to make this happen!_

She served up pancakes – bananas for Tracy, blueberries for Josie – with milk and juice and leftover fruit salad and bacon slices on the side. Frankie took a jar of strained carrots, one of pears and one of apples before Laverne gave him a sippy cup of juice and started in on her own – with little chunks of bananas and blueberries in them. Lenny hovered before finding a jar of Bosco in her fridge and dumping it over his pancakes. The man had been to Zanzibar since she’d last seen him, but it seemed the old favorites were still important. 

It was a quick and quiet affair. Lenny took the dishes when they were done, earning more stony glares from Tracy (Laverne remembered too late that Lee had always been the one to clear their breakfast table when she was little). 

“I’ll wash,” Lenny said. 

“Rockstars don’t wash dishes,” Josie protested.

“This rockstar does.” Did he? Laverne wasn’t sure what Lenny did with his money, only that he’d lived nomadically. 

Laverne kissed Lenny goodbye when she’d finished. “Can you watch Frankie?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. “We got an understanding going.”

Frankie cooed, as if confirming the notion. “Okay,” Laverne snorted. “Be back in a bit. Oh, my phone book’s in the living room – see if you can get Mrs. Babbish to watch him again, if not…ugh, Lee’s sister might do it. But I don’t know. Even Rhonda might be a better idea.”

“You’re still in touch with Rhonda?! I thought you hated her!” he said.

“Hey, she’s sold a million bucks in Mary Kay cosmetics over the last few years. Sometimes having a rich auntie who likes kids is fun.” 

Laverne made sure the kids brushed their teeth and had their supplies before she herded them out the door, grabbing their ran slickers and an umbrella when she noted how cloudy it was out there. She walked the girls down to the bus stop at the end of the cul de sac, wincing as thunder rumbled in the distance.

“The newscaster said it was gonna be sunny,” pouted Josie, as they pulled up to the curb. As always, the yellow bus was there at seven sharp. Laverne patted her daughter’s shoulder as she climbed the steps. 

“Well, weathermen’re just guys. They ain’t perfect,” Laverne observed. She watched Tracy climb after her. “Be good,” she demanded.

“I’M always good. JOSIE is the bad one,” she grumbled. Laverne snorted. Her kids would come around. Either way, she didn’t leave her spot on the curb until the bus was out of sight.

By the time she was halfway back to the house, it was pouring rain.

*** 

She was soaked as she walked though the door, and could hear Lenny nattering to someone on the line. 

“Okay – thanks Rhonda. I’ll see you in a few!” Lenny hung up. “Rhonda’ll be here in a couple of minutes – she can watch him ‘til 12, then she has to go to an audition. Mrs. B’s phone rang off the hook, so I tried Squig but Moth and Frankie apparently don’t get on too good.” The two children hadn’t met, and Laverne hid her annoyance with Squiggy’s lie. “I tried to talk to him about the lawyer, but he hung up on me. Got real motormouthed when I brought it up.”

That set off the alarm bells in her foolproof inner anti-bullshit indicator. But Laverne set aside the thought. “Oh well. You tried. We’ll yell at him together tomorrow.” Then she kissed his cheek. Two kisses led to three, and she reached for the hem of his shirt – and her son’s laugher made them break apart. 

Lenny laughed at Laverne’s expression – she held Frankie’s favorite toy, a stuffed dinosaur, out for him to chew on. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he laughed. “I liked that face you made.” He watched her in the light of the kitchen for a minute. Then he said, “Just – uh, you know Shirl did it with Squig, right?”

“Everyone who’s lived within four inches of him knows that,” Laverne snorted. 

“And you know that I was with Francine…” That had come out in an awkward confession during the wedding. 

Laverne nodded. She slid over to the fridge and grabbed a beer out. When she turned around, Lenny’s shoulders had slumped in relief. 

“Oh Good,” he said. “Then if Shirl told you about Squig, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I know what?”

“Uh…” Lenny’s eyes darted. “Nothing?”

Laverne’s gaze went steely. “Lenny?”

“Uh…it was a long time ago. And it was just…okay. She was…good?” he squeaked out like a mouse, like the old Lenny, as if he were unsure of what answer would best please her. 

“Lenny – you can’t be telling me that you and Shirl…” Lenny averted his eyes from hers.

Laverne then learned something fresh about herself.

She could crush a beer can single-handedly, just like her Pop.


	7. Heartbreak City (The None-More-Black-Version)

**Lenny Kosnowski’s Top Three Tips For Healing a Broken Heart  
Are you down in the dumps? Let the Count of Rock teach you how he managed To Get Over His Heartbreak and Move On**

_  
3: Punch something, just not a person, until you feel good again.  
2: Crying is good. If you cry a lot you’ll feel better!  
1: BOSCO!_  
\- **Seventeen Magazine, August 1976**

Lenny sobbed into the phone as he stabbed out his third cigarette of the day into Laverne’s green glass ashtray and lit up his fourth. He could hear Josie watching The Electric Company in the living room, unperturbed by the fact that her mother had apparently and abruptly abandoned her in the middle of the afternoon for an undetermined length of time with her so-called boyfriend.

 _How could she do that?_ Lenny felt the pain leech into his voice and his words came out in a halting, choking pattern. 

“…And then she got into Rhonda’s car and she just left!” Lenny sobbed. “I dunno where she is and I had to go pick up Josie at the bus stop and now I have to get her sister and I dunno what I’m going to do if Laverne don’t…”

Dr. Gentry’s voice came over the line then, smooth and calm. “Lenny, are you somewhere safe?”

He sniffled. “Yeah.”

“You aren’t going to harm yourself, are you?”

He flashed back to his earlier sessions with Dr. Gentry, when he’d admitted to hitting himself and destroying things when he was upset. The Doctor had called that “negative self-harming behaviors,” and Lenny didn’t know what that meant, but understood he shouldn’t do it, no matter how much loathing for himself lingered in his heart. Lenny shook his head, even though the doctor couldn’t see him. “No. Laverne’s kids are here, and I have to take care of them until she gets back.”

“Exactly. And she will come back. Lenny, you must remember something - Laverne isn’t your mother.”

 _Ouch._ Lenny was aware of that fact that he sometimes tended to play cut and paste with his feelings for his mom and the feelings he harbored for the women he’d been attracted to. “Low blow,” he muttered.

“No, that’s truth telling,” said Dr. Gentry. “You have to remember that your wholeness is within yourself. You can’t be completed by another person – you have to solidify your identity all by yourself. So even if Laverne never comes back – which I’m sure she will, I understand she’s an excellent mother – you’re going to be all right, because you have yourself to rely on.”

“Yeah,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I guess you’re right. Thanks, Doc.” 

“You’re welcome,” he said. “But what are you going to do?”

“First I’m gonna clean the kitchen up. Then I’m gonna grab Tracy from the bus stop, and me and all three of the kids are gonna get into her car and go to dinner.” Laverne had left her purse behind when she’d stormed out, but he presumed there had to be a key at Lee’s house somewhere. Or, he thought, not a little maliciously, she could knock when she got in. 

“See? That’s constructive planning,” said Doctor Gentry. “You’ve improved so much.”

“Nah.” He said. “Yeah? I guess so.”

“I know so. You have a good night, Lenny.”

Lenny grinned as he put the phone down. That felt better, and the chat had made Lenny feel renewed, cleansed, but it hadn’t solved his problem. Then he frowned at the cigarette in his hand. What was he doing, smoking with kids in the house? He extinguished it, and then emptied the tray in the garbage disposal. He pulled the pack out of his pocket and, with a sigh of self-reprovel, he emptied the pack down the drain and turned on the disposal. The cravings would suck, but he knew Laverne, and the house probably had a hundred sugary things hidden away in various nooks and crannies that he could nibble on.

He walked into the living room and called Josie’s name. “We’ve gotta go pick up your sister,” he said. “Turn off the tv. Y’finish your homework?” Where had this new, Ward Cleavery self come from?

She grinned and got up. “Yep!” She pointed at the worksheet she’d just finished. “There are so many colors,” she added, a half complaint. 

“Yeah, and only have of them are yellow,” he said. Lenny checked over his luggage but he hadn’t thought to bring a coat to California. The idea hit him, and he rushed over to the coat closet. Laverne had a light red plastic windbreaker in there, and he put it on. 

And it fit like a glove.

Josie got on her own raincoat and boots. Together they walked down to the bus stop and collected Tracy.

“Where’s my mom?” Tracy asked, her eyes filled with suspicion. 

“She…had to go do some things with Aunt Rhonda,” Lenny said. “She told me to take care of you both ‘til she got back.” Tracy clearly didn’t buy the line he’d easily fed her sister. “You kids ready for dinner?” he asked.

“Yess!” cheered Josie.

“We were gonna go to Disneyland,” said Tracy.

“It’s all gross and rainy,” Lenny said. And he didn’t want to be a weird guy taking his girlfriend’s kids to Disneyland all alone. “Besides, if we don’t go get dinner, I won’t get to teach you how to do the double foldo backward flippo.”

“Is that a dance?” asked Tracy.

“It’s an experience,” Lenny said.

“Huh,” said Tracy. She looked curious as they walked back home and got into her mother’s car. Lenny aimed the vehicle in the direction of the nearest kid-friendly pizza joint, a funny looking place a couple of blocks back with a red slat roof he’d seen when Laverne had driven him here.

As they headed off to dinner, he quietly considered the girls’ approval a start.

*** 

Laverne squirmed in the incredibly uncomfortable plastic seat she’d dragged close to Lee’s bedside a few hours before. Her almost-ex-husband slept on, and as she watched him she felt like the world’s biggest fool.

Today hadn’t been her most shining hour. She’d stormed out of the house on Lenny without saying a single word, had begged Rhonda to drive her around in circles while she figured out where she wanted to go and tried to calm her fury, then had the starlet drive her Mary Kay Cadillac to the hospital, where a lot of growling and a helpful doctor got her to the sixth floor and Lee’s room. She’d left the house without her keys or any form of money or identification, in her sweats and no make-up. She looked like hell, but then again it was a hospital, the best possible place to look like crap.

And her anger hadn’t dissipated. Her emotions oscillated between pure fury at Shirley – the woman she’d told everything and shared everything with – and Lenny – who had come this far with her, only to turn out to be a proven bullshitter. Miss Innocent and Mr. I-hate-liars. Hah!

A disgruntled snort came from the bed. Lee woke suddenly and with a start, slapping his palm over his face with a smile. “The nurses didn’t tell me I had a visitor,” he said, sounding stoned, a state that Laverne was only marginally familiar with.

“I’m your wife ‘til the papers go through,” she pointed out. “So they didn’t announce me.” He nodded. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“There are fewer people rioting in my belly today, so well,” he declared. “Are the kids with you?”

“Uh, no,” Laverne confessed. “I left them with Lenny back at the house.” _Without clearing it with the man first,_ a nasty voice in the back of Laverne’s head reminded her. “I just wanted to talk to you for a bit.”

“I might not be terribly coherent,” he warned her. “Can’t you talk to Shirley about this?”

“No,” she said immediately. And maybe not ever, though she knew it was a never-say-never thing with the two of them. “It’s about her. And I need someone impartial who doesn’t really know Lenny to listen to me.”

“Oh,” he said – sounding somewhere between confused and mildly put out. “All right.”

Laverne took a deep breath. “Have you ever had a friend who you thought you knew, but then they did something awful, something you think you’ll never be able to forgive?”

He tilted his head at her. “Are you talking about the time you kissed Carmine while Shirley was out of town again?”

Laverne grunted. “No!” Maybe that evened the score between herself and her best friend? She'd made out with him a couple of times after that, after all. She shook away the thought. “Lenny did something with someone close to me.”

“Oh. While you were together?”

“No…”

“While you had even a glimmer of hope of getting together?”

“Um, no…”

“Huh,” Lee said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Laverne snapped. The old her – the one that loved fighting with Lee as much as loving him – longed to reassert itself.

“It means that whatever Lenny did before he got together with you shouldn’t matter, because you were with me.”

“With my best friend?” Laverne snapped.

“Well…wait, what?” he said. “When did Lenny and Shirley happen?”

“I can answer that for you,” Came a voice from the doorway. 

Laverne glanced over her shoulder to see Lenny standing there in her windbreaker, green hair peeping out of the sides of the hood – and a look of anger mixed with hope in his eyes.


	8. Talk It Out (Extended Breakdown Mix)

_Lenny Kosnowski says he’s a lover, night a fighter, but you wouldn’t know that from his interaction with a mysterious blonde in the lobby of Ritz Carlton. They could be heard yelling all the way to their station wagon. Catty catty, Len._

**THE GLOBE, MAY 15, 1975**

Lenny felt a wave of awkwardness sweep his nerves as he held out a bouquet of flowers, purchased quickly in the hospital’s gift shop. “For you, Lee,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re all laid up right now.”

“So am I,” Lee said, but took everything with a smile and a graceful shrug. “Thank you, Lenny.” Lee handed the flowers to Laverne, who wedged them into a half-full vase by his bed. “So, you and Shirley…?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this now,” Laverne whined.

“Well, me neither, but since I have a little more time before the nurse comes to jab me full of painkillers, you might as well talk about it.” He yawned. “I happened to have litigated a couple of divorces in my time, you know.”

“I know,” she snorted. But then she kissed Lee between the eyes. “But they weren’t your thing.”

“No,” he admitted. “I’ve always been more interested in the little guy. And speaking of little guys, where’s Squiggy?”

“In Petaluma with his wife and kid,” said Lenny. “Laverne, about me and Shirl…”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Laverne repeated.

“Just lemme explain!” He said. 

She got up and stalked toward the door, but Lenny was there, and he turned her around. 

“We did it once, Laverne,” he said. “Just once. And it was okay – she was nice, she acted sweet to me and she smelled good. But it wasn’t like being with you,” he said.

Laverne’s eyes clouded with tears, and the anxiety in her frame made her stiff and non-pliant against his fingertips. “Why didn’t you tell me before we….?”

“Because I thought Shirl already told you,” he said. He took her hand. “We never meant to hurt you, Laverne. I just thought I had no chance with you, so…”

“So why not do it with Shirl?” Laverne asked bitterly. “She’s just a substitute for me?”

“No!” Lenny said. “I was lonely. I was going crazy out there alone in Tennessee. And Shirl was always the one who had it together – she knew where we were all supposed to go, and she made sure we’d get there. So I let her throw me a pity fuck.”

“Jesus, Len.”

“Wait, was she that bad?” Lee asked, propping his cheek up in his palm. “I always thought she’d be a firecracker in bed. The sweet ones usually are…”

“You, shut up,” Laverne demanded, pointing at Lee. “You,” she grabbed Lenny by the elbow and marched him toward the exit. “Walk with me. Bye, Lee. I’ll bring the girls here on Friday before you get discharged.”

“Yeah, mazel tov on your orgasms,” said Lee. He was watching them with amusement in his eyes, as if they were at the center of a three-ring circus. Laverne flipped him off and he smiled smugly, and all the while Lenny felt a gut-deep stab of jealousy as he watched them interact. 

“Where are my…?” She began, as they made their way to the elevator bank on the other side of the hospital.

“With Rhonda,” Lenny said. “I found her in the lobby trying to pick up a doctor. She said she’d watch the kids overnight at her place, and drive the girls to school tomorrow. She’ll bring Frankie back by tomorrow afternoon, before the bus brings them both home. I already got ‘em dinner, by the way, and Rhonda said she’d pick up baby food if Frankie needed more in the morning. We owe ‘em both a trip to Disneyland, but I didn’t think you wanted me dragging them around in the rain.”

“Oh,” Laverne said. He’d been remarkably responsible, more so than she’d been. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he snorted. The elevator dinged and they smiled wanly at a woman being wheeled out by a bored-looking orderly. They smiled and then slid into place, the door closing. Lenny jabbed his finger against the first floor button and turned toward her.

“I ain’t asking for forgiveness,” Lenny told her. “You don’t have any right to ask for it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was with Shirl before we were together, but it’s not like you told me you made out with Carmine a bunch of times, either.”

She winced. Her answer would’ve been what Lenny’s was: _That was before you, and it doesn’t matter anymore._ “How did you find out?”

“Carmine told me in New York. He got all sloppy about Shirl over a bottle of red wine and I had to try to reel him back in a little.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not asking you to apologize,” she said. “Like you said – I didn’t have no claims on you.” She’d probably been very happy with Lee at the time, but Laverne knew that such a statement would get her nowhere so she said nothing about it. “I’m sorry I left you with the kids, Len. It was rotten of me to do – they weren’t scared, were they?” he shook his head. “I just wasn’t thinking. I was so mad.”

“Nah, they’re fine. I taught ‘em how to do the double foldo backward flippo.”

“And now you’re gonna do their laundry.”

“I made sure they were wearing napkins around their necks,” Lenny said. He sat back and looked at her, just for the moment. “I know why you get mad. You see the way guys look at Shirl sometimes and it’s a competition. Like that Ted Nelson guy you were both sweet on.” Laverne’s ears tinged red, and Lenny took a little pleasure in embarrassing her. “Look, I’m not always gonna be a perfect guy. I get jealous, and I get scared. Sometimes I freak out.”

“Next time we’ll do it together,” Laverne said. He smiled, shook his head.

“That don’t answer my biggest question of all. Why you’re picking me. It can’t be the money and the fame. Those are so hard to deal with.”

She shook her head. “I’ve always liked you a little,” she confessed. “The more time I spent alone, without Lee – the more time I spent thinking about what I gave up in you... I’m not sorry I was with him, that I married him and had three kids with him – and part of me is always going to love him,” she said, and when Lenny went tense in her grip she squeezed his hand. “But now, I watch you with Frankie and I know.” She reached up and kissed him, ruffling his green hair, not caring that they were probably making a scene as the elevator doors swung open. “You’re it. You always were. That don’t mean I regret…Randy. Or Sonny, or David or Mike, or Lee or any of the guy who were important to me before you. But none of them are you. You’re the one I’ve always loved the most.”

He had to kiss her after that revelation. After the kiss, his heart leapt from its moorings, the intensity of what he felt in every word. “You know I’m wild about you, Laverne.” He said. And then he took her hand and they crossed to the lobby and out of the hospital. 

“Wanna show me how much you like me?” she smirked up at him, as they walked into the parking lot. 

He just grinned and bit his free hand.


	9. At Last (The 12" Mix)

**One Wolf, No Waiting**

_Have you ever wondered what it’s like to date a rock star? K – who would only speak to us on the condition of anonymity – dated one of the biggest rock stars in the world – and all before he hit it big. Her insights are definitely interesting to those who might want to follow in her footsteps._

_K knew Lenny Kosnowski when he was a young, poor struggling musician who had just arrived in Los Angeles from Milwaukee. She herself was a college coed, bright and ambitious. All they had in common, she said, were dinosaurs and pop music. When she’d gotten the opportunity to study paleontology in Columbia she left him in Los Angeles, breaking up their three week relationship._

_“Lenny was a sweet man – a kind and tender man. Very clingy, but also cared a lot about my success and accomplishments. Any woman who ends up with him will be lucky to have him.”_

_Does she have any advice for Lenny’s next girlfriend? “Have a strong sense of yourself as an individual. And do not let Squiggy (Andrew Squiggman, Lenny’s manager, co-songwriter and occasional singing partner) get away with anything.”_

_Wise words from a wise woman._

\- **_Marie Claire,  
_** \- July, 1976  
****

Somehow, Lenny managed not to jump over the gear shaft and throw himself at Laverne. Instead – like a wise, mature adult in charge of some heavy machinery – he managed to get the car home, then let her out of It like a gentleman. He got the door open, tossed the key onto the coffee table and heard Laverne kick the door closed behind them.

She promptly tackled him against the arm of the sofa, kissing him for all she was worth. 

Lenny’s hands stroked their way up goosebump-laden skin, pulling her sweatshirt off, then feeling her hands roll the hem of his windbreaker up. She unbuttoned it and he grabbed her by the behind – giving her purchase to get her legs around his waist so he could walk her to the bedroom. 

Laverne leaped. She was – extra pounds or not – still the strongest woman that Lenny had ever known in his entire life, and he held her up, bore her upstairs and to her room, their mouths fused together and their eyes held tightly closed in bliss.

Lenny got her to her bed, and then he kicked that door shut behind them too. Three steps to the bed and then he gently placed her there. He got the windbreaker off while she stripped off her bra and took her sweatpants down. Then she worked on her sneakers and he got his teeshirt off, then unbelted his jeans and unzipped them. He was tempted to leave them on and just go for it, but this was Laverne – she deserved his naked body. By the time he was out of his own sneakers and jeans, Laverne lay nude upon her own bed, legs slightly sprawled apart and a cocky grin on her face.

She crooked a finger at him and he tripped over his own feet launching himself at her.

The next few minutes were filed with frantic kisses and desperate touches. She left a hickey on the left side of his neck, and Lenny was pretty sure that he’d accidentally left a bite mark on the side of her breast. He sucked hard on her nipples and she yanked on his hair as he tried to stuff all of her into his mouth at the same time.

“Do you want me to eat your pussy again?” he panted, coming up off of her flesh just to rest his head a little lower against her abdomen. 

Her belly shuddered under his cheek. “I think I’ll die,” Laverne groaned.

“You want it that bad?” he teased her. Another tug on his hair. He could get used to that. Other girls had tried it, but Lenny was still not a pain guy. Yet it was Laverne – everything she did with or to him worked. “Good,” he said, raising his head, slipping his left hand between her legs to double-check that she really was ready for this. Laverne may have had years of experience with Lee and various other men, but he didn’t want to be the one to hurt her with his own overeagerness. To Lenny’s relief she was wet – wetter, somehow, than she had been when he’d made her come the day before. He licked his fingers and slid two into her carefully, then pumped them, which made her legs spread wider and her hips arch against his. “I want you worse than I ever wanted anyone.”

“More than Farah Fawcett?” Laverne asked.

She really had kept abreast of his dalliances – or at least the ones the tabloids had known about. “I never did it with Farah,” Lenny said quickly. “She’s a nice girl, but after what Lee – the Lee she married, not your Lee - did to her she needed time to heal up…” He was getting all tangled up. “Laverne, I don’t wanna talk about other girls. They don’t matter. You do.”

Her hands ran over his chest, down his belly, then back up his sides. It was just as much of a tease as it had been when they were younger, when she’d made out with him for favors or out of loneliness or unexpressed need - when she’d dared him to get a girl’s number, or drink as many beers as she could. “So come here and prove it.”

Lenny was reminded of the millions of times Laverne had double dog dared him to do things. “Come here and make love to me” was a brand-new request, but he fulfilled it quickly and with pleasure. With a quick adjustment, he parted her with the tip of his cock, and then entered her slowly, making her mouth drop open and her fingertips clutch at Lenny’s upper arms. He braced himself over her, stared into her face, and stroked along her cheek, and appreciated the excitingly tight fit their bodies made.

Laverne opened her eyes. Her smile was blissful, and she flexed around him suddenly and with an appreciative hum.

Lenny had been with over fifty women before this night.

Lenny had taken multiple classes in tantric sex.

Lenny was not going to come the second he touched this woman with his cock. Though he really, really wanted to.

He almost did – the key word being ‘almost’. But he didn’t, even when Laverne’s long, long legs crossed up over the small of his back and she tilted her hips up toward him eagerly. Not even when she stroked every inch of his chest and belly with her strong but silky hands while rocking those hips in rhythm with his, her belly undulating, her breasts quivering slightly. Not even when she dug her nails into his ass and kissed him with wild passion – or even when she rolled him underneath herself and began to ride him with enthusiastic aggression, pinning him lightly to the mattress with her sprawled palms pressed to his chest.

He managed to hold out until she slipped a hand down her own belly and stroked herself. That broke Lenny’s reserve – he shoved her hand away, which made Laverne gasp, and then let out a whiny moan when his thumb found her clit. He took control of the motion, rubbing her and bucking upward, and he could feel her getting wetter and tighter all around him at the same time. His other hand groped her blindly as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Laverne’s groans told Lenny everything he needed to know, before her pussy clasped him and she aggressively reclaimed control, using his cock to get herself off.

Laverne fluttered and squeezed down tight around him before she began to throb, which he encouraged with breathless nonsense words of praise. Then he grasped her hips and pounded upward and said more coherent things - ones he meant, things he would never take back, not even if he had a gun pointed at his head. About how she was the best he’d ever had and he wanted to do this with her all the time, and that he loved her. He may have proposed again, but at that point it felt as if his brain and soul had melted and jetted up into her along with his come.

They clung to each other, sweating and panting, for minutes afterward. She recovered quickly, as she did in all athletic contests – then Laverne sat up in the cradle of his hips with a self-satisfied look on her face. He grinned at her smugness.

“Do I still kiss good?” he asked.

“I’m gonna upgrade you to a great.” Then she stretched out over his form and snuggled closer, running her fingers through his hair. Lenny laughed into her neck and kissed it. “What?” Laverne said. She sounded peacefully exhausted. 

“I remember when you didn’t like touching my hair,” he said.

“I remember when you didn’t wash it for months straight,” she sassed him. Then she combed it out across her pillow. “Green looks good on you.”

“I’ll remember that when I’m getting it bleached out next week,” he said. Lenny allowed his hands to roam down her back and over her flanks. A few minutes passed, and Lenny wondered if she’d like a round two – or if he should be making her another set of sandwiches and beers. He’d obliterated the ones he’d made for her the night before and both beers in his depressed angst earlier that morning.

Then Laverne said, “We can’t get married until my divorce goes through.” 

His hand stopped moving. “Good to know. Uh - did I propose again?”

“A little,” she said. “But I won’t hold it against you.”

He wanted her to hold it against him, but he also didn’t want to rush her. “Are you telling me no?”

“I’m telling you later,” she replied. Her warm mouth kissed him just below the ear. “We’ve got plenty of time, Len, and I ain’t going nowhere. I want the kids to know you better before we consider it – you did a great job this week, especially after I messed up, but it’s a lot of changes for them to go through all at once, no matter how hard they keep trying to yenta me through this thing….or Josie does. I think Frankie’s kinda putting in his two cents, too.”

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying.” He smiled. It was the best promise he’d received in ages, and one he was going to hold her to.

But mentioning her kids brought up his unasked question - and the memory of the box of unused condoms in his guitar case. “Uh…you’re on the pill, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “I have an IUD.”

“…You got a bomb in your…?”

“Lenny!” she rolled her eyes. “It’s a little copper thing in my uterus. I got it put in when I finished nursing Frankie. And I can take it out if we want a kid of our own. Until then we can do it wherever we want, whenever we want, and I won’t get in trouble.”

Did it count as being in trouble when you were a grown woman with three kids? “Oh? _Oh!_ Yeah. I’ve known girls that have those….” His eyes widened. “Really?”

“We’ll see how it goes,” Laverne said. “We’ve gotta make sure that Tracy don’t strangle you first.”

He snorted. “Working on it.”

Silence filled the room again, and Lenny began to drowse off. He was planning on waking her up after they got in a cat nap and doing it again in some new, exciting way. 

“Love you,” she muttered into his chest before she fell asleep.

That definitely made the snoring and drooling that followed worthwhile.


	10. The Standoff Song (Lawyers, Guitars and Mommy Mix)

_Frank and Barbara, Liz and John…and now Laverne and Lenny? Be prepared to fall in love with Lenny Kosnowski’s new beau, the lovely Ms. Laverne Levy, a former housewife and soon-to-be PE teacher. She’s a heart stealer and a bone shaker – and she’s gonna rock your world, just like she rocked Lenny’s…_ People Magazine, January 1977

****

They barely made it out of bed the next morning. To be fair to Laverne, Lenny kept pulling her back in with a new idea, a new way to touch her, exploring a new place, a different part of her. Then they spent what felt like an hour in the shower, tasting, touching, using the sponge and soap as an excuse to touch each other – rinsing away the evidence of their loving, making a little more. 

He changed the sheets and she ran downstairs to find his bag. They changed outfits, put on deodorant, brushed teeth and hair. By the time Rhonda finally showed up with Frankie, they were dressed and looked vaguely like mature adults.

“Rhonda wants details,” she whispered in Laverne’s ear, transferring Frankie’s baby bag and Frankie himself back to his mother’s embrace. That was going to be an interesting story, but Laverne supposed she’d earned it. 

“Later,” she promised. Rhonda just winked and wiggled her way back to her Caddy.  


  
Laverne handed the baby to Lenny, and he sat down on the floor with Frankie, got out his blocks from the box that contained Josie’s. Laverne’s heart bloomed at the sight before her. She got some coffee and had a little breakfast, offering Lenny some. They wolfed the food down and played with Frankie.

At noon she walked down to collect Josie, and Lenny said he’d do the breakfast dishes while she was gone and make Josie's lunch. 

“I’m so glad to see you,” Josie said as she came off the bus, and Laverne worried that her impulsive anger had done some kind of damage to her daughter.

“I ain’t going nowhere, kid,” she vowed, pecking her brow.

“I was worried,” Josie admitted.

“Baby,” Laverne said. “I got really mad yesterday, but not at you or your sister or your brother. Never at any of you. And I promise that I’ll never do that again, okay?”

Josie nodded. She took Laverne’s hand and they headed back to the house, where lunch awaited. But before she could serve Josie, Laverne head Lenny chatting away on the phone in the kitchen. Well, less chatting than threatening. 

“Hey Squig….Shut up about the barking magpies, I know about the _Penny and Cindy_ stuff….How do you think I knew? Big tall blonde guy proposing to a cute Italian girl and saying his name’s Swedish for “The iguanas are attacking?” How dumb do you think I am?!....Yeah….50/50 on the ancillary rights and character credits, and a 'based on the lives of' credit…both of them…if you don’t, not only won’t I do the Bonnie Belle endorsement, I’ll make sure I’m seen wearing it somewhere other than my mouth!…yeah, that’s right….Good….yeah, send the contracts ASAP…yeah, see you when I get in on Monday…Yeah, bye Squig, love you too.”

Laverne coughed as she opened the door, and Lenny spun around, the baby in his arms.

“Len,” she started to say.

“I had to do it, Laverne,” he said. “It’s only kind of okay if Squig tries to take some of my money because I’ve got a lot of it. Jerry broke your heart, and then he took your story and pretended he made it up, and then Squig killed our claim to these ‘David and Mike’ characters for hush money behind my back. I don’t want anything from the show, but it’s ABOUT you and Shirl. You both deserve the money and the credit.” 

She grinned. He’d always been in her corner, but this was beyond the call of duty. “So I guess I’m gonna end up doing some interviews?”

“Yep. I mean, you would’ve anyway because you’re my girl, but people are gonna wanna hear about this. And the girl who plays Penny might want to talk to you. I don’t know a lot about her, but I hear she really likes to smoke.”

Laverne groaned. “Right,” she said. 

“Are they gonna interview me?” asked Josie.

“Maybe,” Lenny said.

She took that news with aplomb, grabbing her peanut butter, jelly and fluff sandwich from the counter. “Can I wear my Jabberjaw teeshirt?”

“Maybe,” Lenny said.

“You’re gonna wear something nice, so the world don’t think your mom’s a heathen,” said Laverne.

Josie nodded. “My tutu and my Jabberjaw teeshirt.”

Lenny laughed out loud and Laverne gave her kid a wry look. “This is what it’s like being a parent, Len.”

“Sounds like fun,” he said. “Though I guess I’m a third of a parent, between you and Lee.”

“Can I call you boppo?” Josie asked, between smeary bites of goo. Laverne automatically wiped the corner of her daughter’s mouth with her sleeve and a fond look crossed Lenny's face.

Lenny snorted. “Yeah. That sounds better than ‘hey you’.”

** 

A few hours later and Tracy came off the bus. She accepted the result of her mother's tantrum, but Laverne still felt guilty about it. And Laverne noted she wasn’t quite as frosty to Lenny as she had been in the beginning, smiling, and blandly exchanging pleasantries with him.

It was in the evening – as they ate fried chicken out of Cowboy Bills buckets and watched _Welcome Back, Kotter_ together – that he softly got Tracy’s attention while the younger kids slept against Laverne’s side.

“We’ve got a whole weekend and a day coming up before I have to leave,” Lenny told her. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t wanna spend it angry.”

Tracy nodded, woodenly. 

“You were really happy about me being with your mom before. What changed?”

“It’s different,” she said. “I want you to make mommy happy, but I don’t want you to be my dad. You AREN'T my dad.”

“I won’t replace him,” Lenny said. Then a pause. “I know how it feels, when someone you love gets hurt, or goes away.” Laverne took his hand. He knew what – who – he was talking about. “I won’t hurt your mom or leave her – but I also won’t force you to call me dad or anything. Your dad is your dad, and he's here and he's okay and he'll be there for you. But I won't be leaving, not if I can help it. Will you let me be there for you too?"

Tracy nodded, hesitantly. There wasn't a big sitcom moment - she didn't get up and hug Lenny -but a new understanding had developed between them. After Laverne took the younger kids up to bed, Lenny got out his guitar, and he offered to show Tracy a few chords before sending her to bed. Laverne watched approvingly as Lenny taught her daughter how to make some music. She realized suddenly and with great clarity that you didn’t need to share genes to be part of a family, and that every one was weird, different and unique.

And Lenny was her family now.


	11. Epilogue (Bonus Beats)

_**Lenny Kosnowksi and Wife Laverne Announce Baby Number One on the Way! “We’re Real Excited.”** _

_To the surprise of many of his fans, Lenny “Kosmik” Kosnowski, 43, finished off his concert at the LA Forum last night by announcing to the sell-out crowd that he was ‘going home to sleep with his pregnant wife.’_

_“We’d been hoping to have a baby of our own,” Said the **Better Now Than Later** singer during an exclusive interview with **People** , “but because of how old we are and how much time Laverne (DeFazio-Levy-Kosnowski, formerly Levy, also 43, is working on a degree to become a physical education teacher) has to spend on school, we weren't sure it was gonna happen. But we got lucky and it finally did. We’re real excited – already over the moon and we can’t wait to meet the kid.”_

_Lenny and Laverne have known each other since they were kindergarten students together in Milwaukee (“She walked into the room on her first day and that was it for me,” Kosnowski explained). They went through school together, lived in the same neighborhood and then the same apartment building for several years before traveling cross-country to Los Angeles in an ice cream truck with their best friends, becoming next door neighbors. They had become close friends, a friendship strained by Laverne’s first marriage and eventually Lenny’s wanderlust. But the Kosnowskis reunited at a high school reunion, and have been married since 1977. They share custody of Laverne’s three children – Tracy, 12, Josephine – known as Josie, 10, and Fabrizio – known as Frankie, 7 - with Lee Levy, a prominent Los Angeles trial attorney and her previous husband. “We’re gonna love them all the same,” Lenny declared._

_“If it’s a boy we’re calling it John,” Lenny explained – in honor of John Lennon, whom Kosnowski worked with as a session musician during Lennon’s last album. “And if it’s a girl, we’ll probably name her after Laverne’s best friend (Veterinarian Shirley Feeney Meeney Ragusa, 43).”_

_Baby Kosnowski is due sometime in September, trailing Lenny’s upcoming fourth album, ‘Graduation Day’ into the world by two months._  
\- _People Magazine, June 14th, 1981_  
-  
***

_Six Years Later_

As Lenny came through the front door with his guitar case in hand, he was greeted by what could only be called organized chaos. One stepdaughter was sitting at the couch, painting her nails with a bottle from the endless number of cases of Bonniebelle makeup that still lingered in his garage. His stepson was sitting beside her, playing with the Pong system Lenny had bought him for Christmas. The other stepdaughter was vigorously doing the twist with his very pregnant wife, which Lenny was fairly sure wasn’t on her list of OBYN -approved exercises. Then again, whenever someone used the term ‘geriatric maternity’ around Laverne she tended to growl. Lenny wasn’t about to tell Laverne to stop having fun.

“I’m home!” he called. Tracy waved her polished nails at him and tried to keep her toes still, while Frankie paused his game and Josie ran right to him. He handed out hugs, listened to Josie’s stories about school and her explanation about 60’s week at her school, that they’d learned how to do The Twist in gym class. (They’d have to buy her a mock-hippie outfit over the weekend, which was going to be a fun adventure for everyone in the family, and probably his PA if they couldn’t collectively move mountains).

“Mama says she used to be a big twister when you were younger.”

“She was the best,” Lenny said, locking eyes with Laverne, who gave him one of her impish grins. 

“What about you?” Frankie asked.

“Smart people didn’t let me dance back then.”

At that notion, Laverne chuckled. “And they didn’t stop you from going on American Bandstand, did they?”

“Hey, I earned my way into standing there rocking back and forth on my heels for three minutes. Remember the time you and Shirl tried to sneak onto the Bandstand set when we all went through Philadelphia after our trip to New York together?”

“Yeah, and Squig tried to convince him to let the Squigtones on,” said Laverne.

“We almost made it, too!” Lenny reminded her. Now they were dancing without dancing, rocking back and forth, with Josie stuck between them. She slid away, and Laverne slung her arms around Lenny’s neck. She automatically played with his hair, which was straighter, a few inches shorter and a few shades darker than it had been when they’d gotten together – though Lenny had thus far resisted Squiggy’s urgings that he get himself a Flock of Seagulls-esque new romantic haircut.

“Are you gonna play some Pong with me?” Frankie asked.

“In a minute. Wait, did you finish your homework?” Lenny replied. Usually Laverne was the disciplinarian, but he’d been helping on that end since she’d come up pregnant.

“He did, and it’s in his backpack,” Laverne said. “I already told their teachers we’re off to Milwaukee at the end of next week.”

“You sure you don’t want me to get someone to watch the kids?” Lenny said. Squiggy and Moth and Francine were headed out for the reunion, and Edna – their never-old reliable – had moved to Florida with Laverne’s father a few years before. But they could call on Rhonda or - if they were desperate - Chuck.

“Nah,” Laverne said. “It’s about time they met their step-grandpa and saw what’s become of the Pizza Bowl.”

Lenny wasn’t about to argue with his wife. Instead, they swept around the room. “Anyone tell you you’re glowing lately?”

She rolled her eyes. “Len, I’ve got hemorrhoids and swollen ankles.”

“But they’re shiny hemorrhoids,” he said.

She snorted and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she said, and leaned into his chest with a sigh. They’d been careful to keep it PG, but already the kids were complaining, even the unborn ones. When the baby kicked him right in the bladder, he let go of Laverne's hand.

Laverne pecked his cheek. “Me and Josie are gonna get some lasagna in the oven. You go play with Frankie. Tracy, when your nails are dry, get the table washed – then you boys set it and do the dishes after.”

“Yes’m,” Lenny said, putting on his best mock British accent.

“I will,” Tracy said, but a note of rebellion glimmered in her voice.

“If you do it,” Laverne said, using her best June Cleaver voice, “I’ll let you talk to Meghan on the phone for an hour after.”

“Okay,” said Tracy. And as Lenny put down his guitar case, Laverne watched. He’d completely forgotten about the acetate master copy he’d been carrying under his arm. He held it out.

“ _Graduation Day_?” she asked him. “You finished it?”

“Yep, freshly mastered,” he said. 

“Good!” she kissed his cheek. “Y’know – I’ve heard half the songs on this thing, but not all of them together at once.”

“You lived it. It’s about you,” Lenny said. Then he added, “It’s about us.”

Laverne raised her eyebrow. “Put it on,” she told him.

Music filled the room a moment later, while they cooked and lived and played their games. The kids would keep growing, and they’d have a family of their own in the little suburban enclave – the place where they’d first made love, the pool where they’d kissed for the millionth time, the cul de sac he’d learned to run – which had begun to protect Lenny from the ragged, threatening edges of his fame.

Where he and Laverne had graduated from friends to lovers and something so much more.


End file.
